


severance

by 4wholecats



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [27]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Blood and Injury, Delusions, Dismemberment, Febuwhump 2021, Gen, implied necromancy, orson and orson related content, orson lives AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4wholecats/pseuds/4wholecats
Summary: The bleeding has stopped, but the pain hasn’t. It wraps around the inside of the knight’s skull like barbed wire, pressing in on his brain at all angles.“I never took you for a turncoat, Orson… what the hell happened to you?”
Relationships: background orson/monica
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114982
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	severance

**Author's Note:**

> ALMOST DONE WITH THE CHALLENGE,, i cant believe there's only 1 day left!!  
> anyway lets hope for some FE news in the direct tonight lol

Seth’s sword cleaves through his arm with enough force to shatter armor and bone, and the fight is over almost as quickly as it had begun. Orson stumbles backwards. He drops his lance, heels smacking hard against the throne’s dais with a metallic scratching sound as the rumpled carpet betrays him, sending him to the floor in an instant. His skull cracks against the ground audibly, but the force isn’t enough to put him out of his misery- it only serves to give him a headache that can’t even be bothered to distract him from the pain in his arm. Was it gone? Severed completely? He hadn’t had the chance to look.

“-grab him,  _ grab him- _ ” 

“Is he dead?” A woman’s voice. The princess’s silhouette swims in his vision. 

“Not yet-”

“I’ve got him.” A large hand rips away his shield before grabbing him by the shirt, hoisting him upwards.

His legs buckle under his weight as he sputters, the hold on his neck far too tight. He catches a glimpse of something red next to his feet- accidentally kicking it as he scrambles to right himself. The missing arm rolls across the floor a pace or two before stopping at the prince’s feet. Ephraim pulls a face before kicking it back with a grimace, blood splattering over his sabatons. 

“Perhaps a healer?” Eirika calls, looking wildly around the room.

Orson laughs as she turns her back to him, searching the hall for a glimpse of white robes. They couldn’t possibly save him in time… there was nothing left to save…

The hand choking him lessens its grip, and Orson grunts as his other arm is slung over someone’s shoulder. The blurry image of a muscled man manifests in his peripheral vision, bearded and frowning. He struggles for a name… it’s on the tip of his tongue… 

“Garcia, if you could bring him off to the side-” Seth motions, stepping away from the center of the room as Eirika and Ephraim approach the throne. Garcia drags Orson behind one of the room’s massive pillars as a healer finally finds them. He doesn’t look at the girl as she attends to his arm, his focus instead on the man still supporting most of his weight with just one arm.

“Garcia…” Orson mumbles, his voice thin and trailing in his own mouth. The former general looks down at him.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you would do this…” he grunts as the cleric turns tail and rushes away. The bleeding has stopped, but the pain hasn’t. It wraps around the inside of the knight’s skull like barbed wire, pressing in on his brain at all angles. “I never took you for a turncoat, Orson… what the hell happened to you?” 

Orson laughs, but his words dissolve in his pain-addled brain. Monica… he needed to get back to her… she would want to know if he was alright…

“Whoa- I don’t think so… You’re staying here until someone tells me what to do with you,” Garcia says, tightening his grip. Orson groans. Doesn’t the man know that he’s got someone waiting for him..? He can’t afford to hang around…

“There you are.” 

Seth reappears at Garcia’s side, close enough that Orson could grab him if he wanted. He tries, but the stump of his elbow barely moves, incapable of performing the violent action he wants it to. Oh right… he had lost his arm… The haze of blood loss still clouds his memory. The last hour of his life feels like a secondhand dream. 

Something metallic jingles. Garcia takes a keyring from Seth.

“Put him in the dungeon for now. When everything is settled, Prince Ephraim would like to speak to him. I’m going with him and the princess to investigate the King’s quarters-”

“No…” Orson heaves, taking a staggering step forward, only to be yanked back once again by his future jailer. “No… you mustn’t… Monica…” His voice descends into babbling, and when his head finally clears, Seth is gone from the room, leaving only the keyring and a set of blood-lined footprints behind. Orson begins to struggle against his captor with fervor.

“He’s going to kill her- he’s going to-”

“Hey now,” Garcia grapples him back into submission with a grunt. “Calm down now- there’s no more killing; the battle is over. No one else dies today-”

“ _ No! _ ” Orson struggles as Garcia begins to drag him away. “I know he will- _ Monica!  _ Bring me Monica! _ Monica- _ ”

Garcia begins to choke him again, not enough to badly hurt, but more than enough to silence. Orson coughs even as he’s deposited in one of the unkept cells, still sputtering her name in the hopes that some pitying soul will listen.

But no one ever comes.

Monica’s delicate shadow never crosses the doorway. 

When a guard brings him his meal, the man looks at him with disgust and horror before leaving without saying a word. 

And when he smells a bonfire in the courtyard hours later, Orson knows what they are burning.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment if you please!


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